Uncompressed assets

Egypt owes its floods to my bathtub. I was washing near Aswan, in a tub carved from one block of stone, when I forgot to turn the tap. The Nile rose and the melons grew. A grateful local ruler sent me his thanks and a rather large bill for carpets.

Tea in China nearly drowned me, and I say this with pride. The Emperor poured, and out of good manners I kept on sipping. After the ninth barrel my feet floated off the rug. Two servants towed me home by my sash. I did not need a drink for eleven years.

Sleep came hard to a Carpathian bear I met, so I read him my poems. He was out by the second page. He slept all winter, and I took his cave. In April he rose, thanked me kindly, and asked for the rest, and I ran for my life.

Forty of my hussars once got lost inside a single fog bank. I called the roll and they answered from four countries. So I blew my horn, and each man followed the sound home. The last rider came back after nine years, with a wife, six sons, and a fine new saddle.

Portraits of me must be painted in two.